"Here you are, Dowit," said the sergeant, handing him the three dangerous missiles. "Do you want me to say it all over again? 'Hold the bomb firmly in the right hand, at the same time gripping the lever. Withdraw the safety-pin, and----' Here, you idiot, what are you doing?"
Rifleman Dowit had removed the safety-pin, and was whirling the missile round and round at arm's length. At every complete circle the head of the bomb missed the edge of the parapet by a hair-breadth. If the wielder had omitted to grip the lever, then in four seconds----!
Already, in anticipation of the rifleman's awkwardness, the rest of the squad were either flat on their faces or else disappearing round the traverse into the adjoining bays. The sergeant alone stood his ground.
Describing a magnificent parabola, the released bomb hurtled through the air; but instead of towards the target it was whizzing in the opposite direction--straight for the group of officers standing a dozen yards from the rear of the trench. They promptly and precipitately scattered, some taking to their heels, others throwing themselves flat upon their faces in momentary expectation of a terrific explosion. A subaltern, however, did his best to avert the threatened catastrophe. Picking up a conveniently-placed sandbag, he hurled it at the now motionless bomb, missed it, but caught the recumbent form of a portly major squarely between the shoulders.
Pluckily the subaltern did the next best thing. At imminent danger he placed his foot upon the latent missile of destruction and waited.
"It's all right, sir," exclaimed the sergeant, who had clambered over the parados and run to the extended group of officers. "It's only a dummy. I had my doubts about Rifleman Dowit, and a thundering good job I did," he added grimly.
"Bring the man here," ordered the major breathlessly, for the blow from the sandbag had shaken him considerably.
Thereupon Rifleman Dowit was given a good dressing down and promptly transferred to the bearer section. For the time being he passes out of this story, but we shall hear of him again.
Malcolm and Dick found bayonet exercise exciting work--thrusting at suspended sacks stuffed with straw called for strength and strenuous activity--while at the ranges both lads gained a high percentage of bulls, and in a very short while the "crossed rifles ", denoting marksmanship, ornamented the sleeves of their uniforms.
Before the training course at Featherston was completed, Malcolm won his sergeant's stripes, while Dick was made full corporal. Both the lads knew that it was but a temporary step, all non-coms. reverting to riflemen on arrival in England, before proceeding across to France. Nevertheless the rank conferred certain privileges upon the holders, besides giving them valuable experience in the duties of non-commissioned officers.